Between this site and the "customers suck" website, I've been seeing a ton of stories from people living with roommates/family that just suck to live with or just living in places with landlords/building managers that seem like they either tripped and magically fell into the job or must have bribed someone, they're that bad.

I figured it deserved its own thread.

The only particularly bad one that I can think of was the about three years back. I was living on campus in what was basically a dorm apartment. There were three bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. We were basically only going to be there for the summer term. I liked all of the girls well enough but one actually brought in her friend (family? who knows) who was in between homes to stay for a bit in our living room.

A bit ended up being about 3 of the 4 months we lived there.

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"Yo, those kids are straight up liars, man. All I told them to do was run product. And by product, I mean chewing gum." - Lie to Me

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Lestrade: "Exactly how many times did he fall out of the window?" Sherlock: "Oh, it's all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count

When I was in college, I lived in an official off-campus apartment (that is, it was one of the housing options at the university, not a separately arranged apartment and the university arranged the apartment-mates just like dorm room pairings in the actual dorms). So, the apartment I lived in was on the third floor (and there was a ground floor, so the first floor was one up from the entry level). There was a manager and his wife who lived in one of the apartments.

Toilet started running incessantly. When he finally came up to fix it, he used tin foil to hold the chain together.

Stove burner issue ... fixed with tin foil.

Elevator was out more often than not (and people getting stuck between floors wasn't uncommon).

Kicker was when the fridge went out ... they were going to have to replace it, but were in no hurry to do so (it would be replaced for the next academic year) ... I was "graciously" allowed to use the fridge in the office on the ground floor. At least that happened in the last 6 weeks of my residence there.

As an adult, I lived in a 2nd floor apartment where it was quite clear that the male half of the landlord couple (who lived downstairs) did not want to have the unit rented. The female half was just fine, quite normal ... The male half was a real piece of work. For some reason, the attic could only be accessed through our apartment, and he would come up and say he needed to get something out of the attic ... he was really just trying to look around the apartment, and he'd come down with something like a couple of C-batteries (seriously, who keeps stuff like that in the attic?)--there was also a basement with the laundry facilities which could be accessed by both upstairs and downstairs.

Then we learned from mutual friends that he was bragging about going up and snooping through our apartment whenever I left to walk my oldest (who was in kindergarten at the time) to school or go get him after school. I swapped out the lock the next day, didn't give a key, didn't say anything about having done so. When he confronted me about not being able to get it, I asked why he needed to get in during the time I was gone, and started citing state tenant law. I filed a complaint, he evicted us. Later learned that people were shocked we had lasted four months--most of their tenants were run out within 2 months. While I know I could have fought and won the eviction case, I didn't really care because by this time I found what seemed to be a better place to live.

New place, the landlord was just fine--totally business-like, didn't live on premises. The only problem was that about two years prior, we had had a terrible storm that had ripped the ridge flashing from the roof. He didn't want to repair it due to cost (slate roof, so yes, it would be more expensive than the more common asphalt shingle). We used to have to go around and move buckets in the attic depending on which way the prevailing winds were whenever it rained. Finally found a new place and moved. The day after we had moved into the new place, I returned to the apartment intending to clean it now that all the furniture was out before returning keys. I walked in and found that a 3' square piece of sheetrock from the ceiling in the master bedroom had fallen to the floor because of being so sodden. I turned around and walked out. Still got the deposit back because the water damage was not our fault at all.

I will never again allow any family members to live with us for any length of time, especially for free. I have on a few occasions allowed family members (my daughter, my wife's daughter and granddaughter) to live with us. I've also seen where my wife's daughter allowed her son and daughter in law to live with them after she (my wife's daughter) got her own place.

It has never ended well. What amazes me, is the sense of entitlement on behalf of the people we are helping. We did not charge rent, to allow them to get on their feet. All we asked was they respect our house, and our property, please keep things neat and clean, don't eat or drink in the bedrooms, my personal favorite, make sure you pick up after your dog so there are no doggy landmines in my backyard. The lines were not just crossed, they were erased and acted like they never existed. Dirty dishes all over the house, microwave looking like a can of tomato paste had exploded in it (no one had any idea how that happened. carpet stains, bedrooms that looked like a bomb had gone off. When that was brought up, the answer was that since the bedroom was upstairs, and we didn't have any reason to go upstairs, if a messy room bothered us, then don't come upstairs and look.

My wife and I both love our children, but never ever again. they seem to forget it's not their house, and then they get upset when we set timelines as to when they have to leave, because after all, where will they go? All that rent they weren't paying that they would have had to pay if they lived in an apartment, not one dime had been saved.

Well, this sort of fits. Remember the wild and wonderful 1970's? That's when Mom & Dad bought their house. A very nice house in a nice middle class neighborhood. Mind you--they bought it--not rented, not leased, but bought it. As in through a mortgage company.

So, imagine Dad's surprise when, a few weeks after we moved in, some hippie shows up on our doorstep and demanded rent. Yeah, he was the former owner. He also owned a head shop (remember those?) that was going out of business. I guess he thought he'd try to convince my Dad that we were renting instead of buying the house? He must have been hard up for cash, that's all I can say. Of course, Dad told him to get lost (probably not so politely). The guy left, but he kicked our cat as he was leaving.

Also, later on when replacing the insulation in the attic, they found parapharnelia for substances that are illegal in most states (and all states back then). The good part is that they were all in a beautiful green jewelry box, which my parents let me have after they thoroughly cleaned it. I still have that box all these years later!

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What have you got? Is it food? Is it for me? I want it whatever it is!

My first landlord was a real prize. When I decided that I wanted to move to a different place, he said I didn't deserve to get back my damage deposit, for the following "reasons":

"You left the stove in a mess!" "I never used the stove." "What? Of course you did!" "Nope." (I was young and single and didn't cook, ever.)

"You stole the plastic hall runner!" "That was mine. My parents bought it for me." "No, they didn't, it was mine!" "Do you want to see their receipt?"

"You spilled something on the livingroom carpet." 'Yes, I did do that, and I'll pay to have it cleaned."

"You're a slob. That apartment was pristine when you moved in." "Really? Then how do you explain the toadstools that were growing in the bathroom carpet?"

The kicker was when he finally, grudgingly agreed to give me my damage deposit back, and I went to his house to pick it up. He answered the door wearing a bathrobe, and he - um - obviously wasn't wearing anything underneath it. He knew I was going to come over; I can only assume that he had something planned. Ugh. I got out of there as quickly as I could.

Well, this sort of fits. Remember the wild and wonderful 1970's? That's when Mom & Dad bought their house. A very nice house in a nice middle class neighborhood. Mind you--they bought it--not rented, not leased, but bought it. As in through a mortgage company.

So, imagine Dad's surprise when, a few weeks after we moved in, some hippie shows up on our doorstep and demanded rent. Yeah, he was the former owner. He also owned a head shop (remember those?) that was going out of business. I guess he thought he'd try to convince my Dad that we were renting instead of buying the house? He must have been hard up for cash, that's all I can say. Of course, Dad told him to get lost (probably not so politely). The guy left, but he kicked our cat as he was leaving.

Also, later on when replacing the insulation in the attic, they found parapharnelia for substances that are illegal in most states (and all states back then). The good part is that they were all in a beautiful green jewelry box, which my parents let me have after they thoroughly cleaned it. I still have that box all these years later!

Oh... wow. That's just special.

Yet now I want to see the jewelry box. (I have this strange mental conviction that all people who use that substance have a cigar box with their paraphernalia in it... what can I say, I'm a daughter of hippies.)

This is a post from another thread about My Very Worst Roommate Ever.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My very worst roommate ever was a guy my other roommate, Beth, and I decided to rent with. Oh man. He looked awesome on paper. Good job. Often went Other City where his girlfriend lived on the weekends. Told us he lived with his sister 'the neat freak' for a while so he knew how to clean up after himself.

Ha. HA HA HA. Oh, John.

John did have a good job. Too bad he routinely bet his entire paycheck on sports. Thank DEITY he was either very good or very lucky.

The cleaning up bit? Oh, that was just because he knew that's what we wanted to hear. The reality was that he was the biggest slob ever. Cleaning was women's work and he was a man. ::Chest thump::

His job provided breakfast and lunch so he never went grocery shopping. Why would he do that when he could just eat our food? We had MANY conversations about that but he just ignored us. It got so bad, we had to keep the non-perishables in our rooms.

One time, I bought some special ingredients to make a treat for coworkers. When I went to make the dessert, half of the chocolate I needed was gone. I confronted John who said, "Well, you didn't tell me NOT to eat it!" I never knew was 'seeing red' meant until that moment. It was true that I didn't tell him not to eat it but it was IN MY ROOM.

He liked to leave pots of our food he cooked out so we could clean it up. He also had a really hard time with aim, so cleaning the bathroom was always a treat. He refused to clean it up himself and we just couldn't stand not to. I was vacuuming in my room one day and he got angry because it was interrupting his football game. (That was the day we discovered his gambling habit. It wasn't looking good and he was...tense.)

He belonged to X Religion and often preached to Beth and me that we were going straight to Hell because we were of Y religion (same basic religion, different flavors) and we occasionally went on dates with boys. But on the weekends he didn't go home to his girlfriend, it was a constant parade of ladies.

It was always so awkward to walk into the kitchen on Sunday morning to see a half naked girl we'd never been introduced to rummaging through our fridge. I didn't care if he wanted to sleep with half of the city but the hypocrisy and double standard was disgusting. I'm sure his girlfriend back home would have been pretty disgusted too.

I think the straw that broke the camel's back was the $$$ phone bill we got. The utilities were in Beth's name and we just split them accordingly. The phone bill was split with basic service and then any calls you made, you paid for.

One weekend, we both happened to be out of town and John had a big party. We know because we came back on Sunday evening to find the house completely trashed and John nowhere to be found. We were both pretty mad and talked about how we weren't going to renew the lease once it was up because of John and other reasons. And of course, we had to clean it up, the place reeked of booze and cigarettes.

A couple of weeks later, I came home to find Beth in a rage. It was scary, I'd never seen her like that before. It turns out that on the weekend we were away, one of John's friends called some s*x line overseas. For an HOUR. We confronted him and his response was "::shrug:: So? Whaddaya want me to do about it? Joe is a jerk." Our phone bill was in the neighborhood of $600, which we didn't have the means to pay. (Normally it was around $30-$50)

Beth told him that someone was going to pay this bill and it wasn't going to be her and it wasn't going to be me. I don't remember how we accomplished this but he got his friend to pony up. Things were tense after that, with us being the hags trying to ruin his life.

We told him of our plans to not renew the lease and he responded by skipping out one day a month before the lease was up. We got stuck with his part of the rent, phone, lights and cable but since he neglected to leave a forwarding address, we couldn't send his security deposit. So we figured he either meant for that to happen or he's just a jerk wondering where we ran off to.

I chose to live at home for a number of years, after college, to avoid any and all roommate hell stories. I do have a couple of landlord ones though.

First apt; still not entirely sure it was 100% legal, was the second floor of a house. I didn't have my own entrance; owner was a little old lady in her early 90's, but still pretty sharp. Former tenant had lived there for 20+ years, or so I was told.

i went in the front door, into her home, and then up the stairs, where i had a door that locked. Initially, I didn't lock the door, as it was in her house, I was pretty trusting, etc. However, one day, while i was home, she tried to come in! as in unlock the door with her key. I asked her what she needed and she mumbled something, but also said she would come in when the former tenant was there, and she was ok with it, so it was ok. Um no, it was not. I thankfully discovered a privacy lock on the door, so even with a key, she couldn't open the door and had to knock! She wasn't malicious, just didn't realize that I wasn't the same as her long time tenant, and i did very much mind her coming in!

The house was old, and electric not up to code. one outlet in each room, with 2 in the kitchen. that's it. so I had to get creative with extension cords. thankfully there were overhead lights in each room. Windows were the old type you had to push in on each side, at the bottom, and lift the storm windows up, and down. the ones in the LR i couldn't get up, they were so old, to put the screens down when it got warmer out. (I moved in in Jan). She kept telling me oh honey, the last lady just left them closed and closed the blinds. Um no, not happening, as it got HOT up there. I kept telling her, no i need to be able to open those windows, and you will fix it.

Came home one day, and someone had indeed fixed them. Her son lived in Montana; we were in NJ, so he wasn't much help with things. But if I made a big enough stink, it usually got done. She also tried to tell me i put too much trash in the one garbage can out back. Came to find out, the neighbor used ours too! Again, not my problem.

I finally moved out when she began to show signs of dementia, as I was afraid, due to certain other incidents, she'd burn down the house with me in it! Found out she died 6 months after I left.

Moved to another privately owned apt, in a house. THis landlord was prize too! cheaper than cheap, and while he could fix many things himself, many he couldn't but did anyway, to save paying someone else to do it! I stayed about 6 years but then had enough.

Now I live in a complex, which is fabulously managed, and will never go back to renting privately again. I ahve an issue, i put in a maintenance request, and its done. Emergencies are handled ASAP as they have staff on call on site, 24/7

Great thread idea, Ryuugan80. I have many stories. I'll start at the beginning.

My first job, I was commuting from my parents' for a few months. I was friends with two young women at work who were rooming with each other.

One of the roommates ("Carol") starts to tell me stories about what a dreadful roommate the other ("Sarah") is. About how mean and selfish and horrible she is. This seemed odd to me because I liked Sarah a lot but clearly I just didn't know her well enough, right?

Well, Sarah eventually announces she is moving out to live with her boyfriend. Carol talks me into moving in with her. When Sarah found out, she pulled me aside and told me, as gently as possible, that I was making a mistake.

Oh, but I was young and foolish then.

Let me just hit the high points of Life With Carol:

Her boyfriend spent every other weekend there. This wasn't mentioned beforehand, but not up for discussion. (OK, I can deal with that.) On the weekends her boyfriend was there, I was more or less expected to make myself scarce. (Hmm. A little more difficult, but I was young and had an active social life.) Boyfriend was a pleasant individual who went out of his way to inform me, early on, that I should have no qualms sharing a bathroom with him because he absolutely did not find "my type" attractive at all. This point was heavily stressed.*

Carol disdained the idea of owning a TV or a VCR, or paying for cable. However, when my parents gave me a TV/VCR and I signed up for cable, she had no problem co-opting them, regardless of whether I had plans. I had the VCR set to tape The X-Files; she routinely would pull my tape out so she and BF could watch movies.

Her food, her food. My food, our food. This one was the beginning of the end; we had our first big blow-out fight when she and BF ate the shrimp and chicken I had bought for my first real grown-up dinner party. Her logic was something along the lines of You never said not to eat that and Why are you always so selfish?

Carol never had her share of the rent and utilities ready on time. She never flat-out stiffed me, but she did keep me waiting, sometimes for more than a week. (We were both paid pathetically little.) And she seemed to really enjoy making me ask multiple times. At one point, she told me my parents were rich (they weren't) and that if I needed money that bad I should just ask them.

Fortunately, the lease only had five month's left when I moved in. Neither of us ever brought up the idea of extending the lease. She ended up moving out almost a month early and demanding that I pro-rate her rent and give her her share of the deposit right away, to both of which demands I replied with a pleasant invitation to go pound sand. For all her flaws, Carol helped me develop a fairly decent spine, pretty early on . (She did manage to take a fair number of my possessions with her, including about half my nice cookware, but I considered it to be worth it to be getting rid of Princess Carol.)

*The roommates: She kept her mom's ashes in a can by her bed and would talk to the can. I was very young, so very confused by this as it was not in my realm of normal. She spilled my large bottle of CK Eternity perfume and denied doing so. I was gone for the weekend, and it took months to air out the room enough. I despise that scent since.Different roommate, getting married. That is all she talked about, was her DF. She spent hours doing her hair every day. Didn't work and frequently borrowed money until her next government check came.

*Neighbors:Two guys that worked construction. They seemed nice, but when they drank (often), they forgot which unit was theirs and would bang on my door instead of theirs. We ended up having to call police when they wouldn't stop trying to open our door. At 2 AM.Three women moved into the two bedroom townhouse across the street from ours. Over the next two months, three men moved in with them. They had parties that spilled out into the street and would have loud fights which ended up getting two of them arrested. They broke the windows on the third floor and ended up leaving, but all of their possessions were there at the townhouse. They were gone for over two months, and the power was turned off, which alerted the management, who did an inspection and evicted them.